Raw Fish Fetish
by Tupper
Summary: Someone has been playing with Draco, and now he's hopelessly addicted to something he's never even heard of before. As pressure mounts, one question must be answered--what will he do for more? DG. Pre-OotP.


This isn't your ordinary romance. I don't believe in those. :P But I love D/G fics, so if you're writing one, let me know and I'll check it out and review.

Disclaimer: (Bart Simpson is seen scribbling on his school chalkboard, like he always does, scrawling in his abnormally neat handwriting: FIGARO DOES NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, BECAUSE SHE OWNS DRACO MALFOY.)

I wish.

_Raw Fish Fetish_

It had all started when Fred and George, those two abominable twins, played a simple prank. Or so he thought. Usually he would glare, get revenge, and forget it within the day. The twins would scowl and toss out a clever superhero line and retreat to prank another day. It was ritual. Draco and the twins had a tradition of trying to make the other side miserable. Draco never even sparked with anger anymore at the sudden, temporary swipes at his pride.

It had been an almost comfortable situation between the three. The twins would turn his hair green; he would rig their cauldrons to explode in Potions class. It was always of familiar ground, and the practical jokes were always within boundaries, and Draco always knew the degree of humiliation he was to expect.

But now they had gone too far.

As par usual, the "prank" had happened in the middle of lunch, when everyone was sure to be there to watch—and laugh. It didn't even bother him anymore, and the outbursts of laughter had faded each time; it wasn't thought spectacular by anyone anymore. The whole "prank war" was a private thing between them.

When it happened, no-one noticed, and if they had, they would have been confused and wouldn't have cared anyway. He wasn't even sure if it _was a joke when he saw it for the first time. _

_It was an unidentifiable lump of something that smelled distinctly like fish mixed with various other…things. __It sat innocently on his plate, looking for all the world like __it didn't care whether he ate __it or not. Draco poked it cautiously with his fork. When it didn't blow up in his face, he decided it was safe for closer inspection—consumption. He didn't know who had put __it there, but as __it wasn't on anyone else's plate, he had a pretty good idea of whom, and what the thing was for._

He imagined that he could feel the twins' eyes on his back, daring him. Well, he'd show them that he wasn't a coward. He popped the lump into his mouth and chewed. The food was quite a shock to his groomed stomach, pampered with years of delectable cuisine, but not entirely unsavory. He definitely knew that there was fish in there. Draco swallowed.

For the next few seconds, he counted his heart beats. He situated his goblet on the table so that he could see his reflection in the shiny surface. He was more curious than afraid. Draco gently probed his neck and face, searching for feathers; tentacles, perhaps. Fred and George had even been known to sneak in some Pepper Imp ingredients into their victim's food, causing him to smoke at the mouth for nearly an entire day. But nothing was there.

Pansy paused long enough in her noisy meal to look curiously at him for a moment, her beady little eyes dull and boring. Draco quickly quelled any questions that might have rested on the tip of her tongue with a glaring look.

Nothing happened. Draco began to relax, knotted-up muscles unraveling like yarn. He smirked down at the rest of the not-so-tough-now-are-you? food before him. It hadn't even tasted bad, really. They could have at least made it disgusting. Well, he did have the feeling that the food had consisted of raw fish, among other things, but it didn't bother him like it was probably supposed to. He frowned. Maybe that was the joke; it was raw. If so, the twins were losing their touch. No, it couldn't be that, could it?

He finished the samples and sat there staring at the space they had occupied on his plate. Draco suddenly found himself wishing for another. Maybe, just maybe, the twins would be disappointed that their joke, whatever it had been, hadn't worked and would try again. Perhaps at dinner. 

Lunch soon ended and everyone left the Great Hall in a big swarm of students. Draco made sure to purposely brush past Fred and George as he exited through the huge wooden doors, and lowered his head to speak to them.

"You must be running out of material," he whispered to them.

Had he looked back at the two, he would have seen their bewildered (and indignant—they never ran out of material for anything) gazes following him in confusion.

He had half expected something to happen later, but all remained normal. Draco didn't sprout any scales, nor was he sporting chicken feet (the twins had done that to him once, the chicken feet. The talons had lasted for only an hour, but all through it, they were waving a plastic bucket from some stupid Muggle food franchise, with a picture of a fat captain plastered all over it, and yelling for everyone to get their Draco Drumsticks while they were still hot). His lights mood was furthered as he looked forward to another lump at dinner.

Sure enough, there it was again. Draco grinned a bit and sat down. Within a minute, another lump was vanished from his plate. He licked his lips in an almost feline manner. Too bad it didn't affect him. The twins were sure to give up now and wouldn't try it again—they knew when they were beaten, most of the time. Draco regretted that a little. He wanted another lump. Two more would be nice.

He shrugged it off and ate the rest of his dinner.

It ended, and there was the usual traffic out of the Hall. The twins shot Draco a confused look, clearly wanting the earlier "confrontation" explained. Draco either didn't see it or ignored it.

He was tired, so tired that the normally long wait out of the Great Hall seemed very short. Pansy chattered to him endlessly, on and on, like a squeaky machine that just would. Not. Stop. Draco stopped paying attention after the first sentence ("Did you _see Parvati Patil's lipstick shade? She's not in a morgue, hellooo…"), and merely grunted in response to her gibbering._

Draco was nearly to the common room when he stopped short and cursed lightly. He turned away from a startled Pansy and retraced his steps to the Great Hall. He had forgotten his Arithmancy book at the Slytherin table.

He entered the Great Hall. It was empty, devoid of anyone save for a Nearly-Headless-Nick, who was desperately—and in vain—trying to console a wailing Moaning Myrtle, who had set herself up for a "I wanna be alive!" fall by coming up to watch a feast full of food she couldn't eat.

Draco ignored the two and zoned in on his book, which was lying on the table exactly where he had left it. He was relieved it hadn't bee stolen, and picked it up and was about to tuck it under his arm when he noticed something strange. A piece of paper stuck out of the book, one that he was sure hadn't been there before, as the sixth-year Slytherin was an orderly sort. He opened the book and plucked the paper out. It was folded neatly. He opened it, and his eyes narrowed as he read the tidy script:

_In case you're wondering, it's called sushi._

_Well, Draco thought, __which explains diddly. He had never heard of the stuff before—must have been the name of the food. The lumps were actually called something. They might be a foreign dish, or more likely, a Muggle one. That was just what he needed, to be caught with Muggle food. That must have been the motive behind this._

He tilted his head, a habit of his, and was about to file the note away when he caught more writing on the bottom:

_Do you want more?_

Draco frowned. Yes, he did. But he didn't like someone else knowing that. He had a hunch that it wasn't the twins, for some reason. The writing was too neat, too legible. He supposed that they could have gotten someone else to write it, as their own writing looked as though it had been scribbled by someone with severe epilepsy, but to them it would have been too much like someone else taking credit for their brilliance.

No, it wasn't them. But who would suddenly just…do this? It made absolutely no sense at all. He frowned again. He was used to the Weasel twins, but he was very uneasy with the idea of someone toying with him. That wasn't Fred's and George's style; they had no use for subtlety. 

Still, he wanted another…what was it called, oh yes, sushi. Draco wanted another one, more than before. Though strange, and nearly gross to think about, it was actually very good. He hurried back to the common room, his mind whirling. He went to bed early, a full two hours before anyone else, and fell asleep. That night the sixth-year dreamed of raw fish, dancing tantalizingly around his head, easily within reach and he didn't have to do monkey work to get at them. He ate as much as he liked, probably more than his stomach could have handled if it hadn't been a dream.

The day was Friday. Draco woke up strangely refreshed and washed up in the prefects' bathroom before heading out to breakfast a full twenty minutes ahead of the crowd. He grinned; he was going to catch whoever it was—and maybe, definitely, was going to make the person give him more sushi.

Draco walked quickly into the Great Hall, and made his way to his usual seat at one of the table ends. He stopped as soon as his plate came into view.

The sushi was already there. But instead of just one, this time there were two sitting daintily on his plate. His disappointment at not catching the culprit was countered by a nearly giddy sensation at the sight of the raw fish lumps.

A few people had filtered into the Great Hall. No-one had noticed yet that Draco already had food on his plate several minutes before the elves' cooking was set to magically appear on the many platters, but to make sure, he scarfed down the sushi. He licked his lips with satisfaction after swallowing, not leaving so much as a smear behind on the once-more shiny plate surface. 

To watch him, one would wonder if the teen had actually tasted the food as it went down.

One would also think that he was developing an unhealthy addiction.

But often, the worst obsession cases went unnoticed until it was too late.

Draco looked around the slowly filling Hall, shrewdly gauging each person, trying to decide if he/she was a possible candidate for being the conspirator of this little joke. There was Parvati Patil and her (admittedly pretty) twin sister Padma. Neither showed much promise, both being simpering, giggling girls that couldn't hold a candle to even Neville Longbottom in brains, which was pathetic. They certainly would not have had the smarts to come up with this.

There was Justin Finch-Fletchley. Well, Draco had to give the Hufflepuff credit for at least _some brains, but the boy totally lacked creativity. Finch-Fletchley wouldn't even think to play a joke, much less think of a good one to pull._

Neville Longbottom was by far the easiest to rule out. Not only did he not have the intelligence or creativity (sorry! Sorry, Neville lovers!) to do something like this, but he also lacked the _guts. Oh, sure, he had shown surprising bravery—or supreme stupidity—in unexpectedly facing off against Crabbe and Goyle at a certain Quidditch match, but this was entirely different. He'd need courage in __combination with the other two qualities, and that just wasn't going to happen. (Again, sorry to Neville lovers!)_

All of the other students were roughly the same. It was almost depressing to Draco. There were no real _pranksters these days, aside from the Weasley twins, who possessed nearly as much sagacity as Draco himself. There were no challengers anymore. _

Oh, and there was Ginny Weasley, sitting at her timid place at the Gryffindor table (dun dun dunnnn…), quietly reading a book to herself. Draco really didn't know her that well, actually. He'd teased her just like anyone else, of course, but it was pretty meaningless—at least to him. She was no fun. Whenever Draco mocked her, she would simply shrug. Ginny would never get offended or upset at all, and never got even. Ginny wasn't challenging, and non-feral mongooses were of no interest to Draco. She was certainly smart, didn't lack creativity (to his limited knowledge), and Draco wouldn't be surprised if she had the guts, but Ginny lacked the final ingredient essential to a good joker—motivation. In short, a mongoose allergic to the cobra.

Draco rubbed blearily at his eyes. Potter, Ron, maybe? Nah. Potter, well, he wouldn't bother doing something so subtle as this. He would rather humiliate Draco publicly, like in a game of Quidditch, by showing himself to be superior as the school hero. The same as Ron. That was the problem with all of the cliché good guys—their ideas of revenge were petty and unimaginative. They completely lacked poise. (Okay, now I need to apologize to Harry and Ron lovers… :P ) 

Even though he was getting nowhere, Draco felt strangely euphoric. _Here was a real challenge. Draco grinned. A challenge, __and food. Score._

Speaking of food, the usual excellent cooking magically appeared on the glittering platters, and everyone dug in from their respective seats. Everything smelled positively delicious, but Draco thought that it was bland compared to his new craving.

Throughout the morning, his mind was not on his lessons. Visions of sushi swam through his thoughts, bubbling and pushing themselves to the surface of his consciousness. Draco realized what he was doing and scowled. A Hufflepuff girl quailed, thinking that the look was directed at her, and slunk down in her seat, obviously willing herself to become invisible from his gaze. Draco smirked, taking a small pleasure in the potency of his scowl.

His temporary good mood was cut abruptly short in Divination, as they continued their advanced study of tea leaves, when he caught himself thinking that a plate of sushi would go well with his tea, which left a sour taste in his mouth. He kicked the table leg, earning a sudden and deserved pain in his toe, startled looks from his fellow students, and an annoyed one from Professor Trelawney, whose narrowed eyes and pursed lips made her look like a banshee on a _bad hair day._

Another two sushi lumps appeared at lunch. This time, Pansy paused long enough in her shoveling of food into her mouth to notice the morsels that didn't seem to be on anyone else's plate. Smiling her too-sweet, foul smile, she asked, "What is that food? How come nobody else has it? And"—her eyes widened in a puppy-dog look—"can I have some?"

Draco's initial reaction was surprise; he didn't think that Pansy would have enough brains to notice the fact. His next instinct was to be instantly protective of his sushi. It was HIS, and no-body, especially not HER, was going to take it away from him.

"What's it to you anyway?" he growled.

Pansy seriously looked like she wanted to press the subject, but wisely (surprise number two) decided to let it go. Draco relaxed about three silver hairs and chewed his sushi, choosing to eat it slowly this time and relish the taste. His stomach wanted it all NOW, but it would have to wait for a minute.

_Maybe, he thought,__ I can get the cook back home to fix this for me. He smiled, and all too soon, the raw fish was gone. He looked morosely at where it had been._

It continued through dinner, where he got two more. By the end of day two, his craving had increased in potency and effectiveness in warping his mind so that he saw sushi wherever he went. Potions recipes, ones that included ingredients like a spine of lionFISH, or jellyFISH tentacles, or RAW eel eyes, turned into cooking recipes for sushi.

After dinner ended, his mind was so wrapped up in wrapped-up raw fish that he neglected to watch where he was going and unceremoniously slammed into someone as he was leaving the Great Hall. The few books that he was carrying clattered to the floor along with the other person's bag. Nothing spilled out of it.

"Sorry," he mumbled, bending down to pick up his fallen books, not bothering to look up at who he knocked into. Draco gathered them up and was about to reach for the last book when it was handed to him. He looked up and saw Ginny Weasley kneeling across from him, her bag already slung back on her shoulder.

Draco's cheeks pinked for two reasons: he had not meant to say that he was sorry to a Weasley, and now that she was right in front of him, he saw that she was really, really pretty with her long red hair tied up and freckled splashing across her nose. He had never noticed before, even though they had been in the same school for five years. Ginny grinned at him.

"Apology unaccepted," she mocked. "You're not supposed to apologize to an enemy."

"I'll do what I like," Draco snapped. To tell the truth, he was caught off guard by how casually she had made fun of him; that, and how her big brown eyes shone in the light. The mongoose had never talked back to him before.

Not mongoose, weasel. Weasel. Weeeasel. 

Ginny just smiled, one that was the closest to a smirk that Draco had ever seen her get. It was just slightly unsettling; it looked like his own, and he was taken aback by how feral it seemed now that it was turned on himself. He grabbed his book and walked away without another word, trying not to let his discomfort show. It probably didn't work, and in knowing that, his normally calm, cool, and collected air was disturbed that night. It was heightened a few notches when he noticed a piece of paper sticking out of one of his books. Curious, he pulled it out and read it:

_What would you do for more?_

Draco frowned and turned the book over. He gave a start as he saw the title; it was one of the books he'd dropped earlier, the one that Ginny Weasley had handed back to him. His eyes widened in shock. It couldn't be. The mouse, the youngest weasel, the spineless redhead that stalked Potter, was behind all this? He stared at the note in his hand, disbelieving. She had always seemed so mild. Maybe she was trying to get revenge on him for all his cracks. Maybe she had been more affected by them than she had let on. Or, more likely, she was just trying to prove that she could play with the big boys too.

Draco mulled it all over, and shook his platinum-blond hair. The next day was Saturday, and not a Hogsmeade trip. He'd catch her alone the next day and confront her. Ginny probably hadn't done it anyway; someone else must have slipped the note in when he wasn't looking, and Ginny's coming along was a complete coincidence.

Somehow, he didn't quite believe that.

Suddenly Draco remembered what Gin—the note had asked. What _would he do for more? He sat back in his favorite armchair in the common room, a high-backed, plush one, and mused over his answer._

It was total, blatant blackmail, of that much he was sure. She—the person must have somehow known that he would take to the sushi so well. What did they know they he didn't?

But back to the question. He wasn't sure of what he would do. A lot, probably. The sushi was excellent. He would do just about everything except disable his hard-earned reputation. Which was probably the flagrant paradox of what the weasel was likely hoping for. He smacked himself mentally. Not. Weasel. It was very possible that the Weasley twins had only asked their sister to be the delivery girl, however out of character it might be.

Draco would ask—no, demand the next day that Virginia Weasley answer his burning questions.

The next morning came bright and early. Sunlight streamed through the open window and peeked through the cracks of the drawn curtains around Draco's bed. He groaned and stretched. Blearily, he opened the curtains and saw that everyone else had already gone down to breakfast. Whatever.

Draco shot up. Breakfast…breakfast meant more sushi! And waiting meant that there was more time for somebody—like Pansy—to steal it. He should have just told her that the elves were making it specially for him. He hurriedly threw his pajamas off and shucked his clothes on. He then raced down to the Great Hall and was exceedingly relieved to see that he was only a minute late. He relaxed, and walked toward his seat more slowly.

He heard giggles to his left and saw that a group of Hufflepuff girls—some his year, some older—was looking at him and giggling.

"What?" he asked, too put-off to inject the normal amount of contempt for members of the lower Houses into his voice. The girls looked at each other and flushed, each unwilling to explain. Draco was about to leave when one of the girls, a seventh year, stepped forward bravely.

"You…look really good with your hair mussed up," she stammered. Draco stared at her, completely speechless, so thrown off that no harsh comments presented themselves for him to chuck at them. The girls sighed in audible relief and slunk away, giggling once more now that the danger was over. Draco brought his hand up self-consciously to his hair. He had forgotten to slick it back, and his semi-long hair was brushing against the tops of his ears. Girls really liked the messy look?

He made his way to his seat, now fully aware of the wistful, and sometimes sultry, looks from other girls he passed. Pansy positively glowed at him as he neared. Draco kept his eyes carefully trained on the ground as he approached and only looked up as he reached the table.

And froze.

The sushi wasn't there.

He stared in horror at where the food should have been and panic began to set in and race through his blood, alerting his adrenaline. Where was it? Had someone stolen it? Who did it? Draco's eye slid to Pansy's beaming face. She had been unusually inquisitive about the sushi the day before. He looked and saw that her plate was heaped with food. No, she probably didn't take it, because she knew that Draco would kill her.

The words of the previous noted floated up in his mind and tauntingly chanted. _What would you do for more?_

A million possibilities occurred to Draco. Maybe they had forgotten to put it there. A worse thought—maybe they ran out of sushi, and the whole joke was over—a dreadful thought. Maybe they had put it on the wrong plate. Maybe someone had stolen his beloved sushi.

The most obvious thought didn't reach him. _Maybe someone was playing with him._

He _had to find Ginny Weasley._

Draco was a zombie throughout the rest of breakfast. He didn't touch any of the other food. His craving for the sushi had been disturbingly apparent when he _did have the sushi, but now that he didn't, it was a full-blown obsession. He wanted more. He needed more. And he would __get more, because he always got what he wanted._

His mind now ablaze with determination, he strode resolutely out of the Great Hall as breakfast ended and everyone filtered out chatting to each other. Draco kept his eye trained on the head of red hair ahead of him and to the right. He managed to shake off Pansy, who wanted him to "explore" an empty classroom with her (SO obvious…), and Crabbe and Goyle, who looked stupidly confused when Draco told them to go off and do something without him. He ignored Pansy's bleating protests and began to follow Ginny.

If he didn't get his sushi, a weasel would go pop.

Draco followed her discreetly. He knew how to go unnoticed. The small girl was chatting with a few of her bimbo friends. Or, rather, the bimbos were talking. Draco had to admit that Ginny really was too intelligent for the likes of them. From what the blonde heard, they were planning to go and pay a visit to Professor Trelawney and have their fortunes read—all in the name of education, of course, but Draco heard the phrase "future love life" several times.

The girls sounded in awe of the professor—all except for Ginny. She didn't sound too enthusiastic about the idea of going to see Trelawney. She made a gracious exit, saying that she'd catch up with them later; Professor McGonagall had wanted to see her, and that they should go see Trelawney without her. As soon as her friends were out of earshot, Draco heard Ginny mutter to herself, "Like I'd want to see that miserable bat anyway." He grinned, forgetting his problem with her for the moment. Their shared contempt for the old banshee was one thing they had in common.

For one second, he wondered if that was the only thing they had in common…

Draco shook the thought from his head, appalled that such a thing had entered his wonderings. Slowly and stealthily, he crept with feline grace behind Ginny. He waited patiently until she turned into a side corridor, and then moved with alarming speed and came up behind her.

Ginny barely had time to gasp before strong arms grabbed her around the waist and practically carried her through the nearest door, which led to an empty broom closet.

Her short cry was bitten off as a hand clamped in a steel vise over her mouth. The strong arms spun her around and she came face-to-face with…

Draco Malfoy. 

Oh, crap.

His intense gray/blue eyes bore into the stark contrast of her brown ones. His hand remained over her mouth until he was sure that Ginny would not call out for help. He then slowly removed it, and unpinned her from the wall.

Ginny stared at the sixth-year for a moment and was just able to croak out, "Do you do this often to other girls?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking totally at ease with the situation, although there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I would say sorry for the rough treatment, but I'm not supposed to apologize to my enemy."

It was Ginny's turn to raise her own eyebrows as her words were quoted seamlessly back to her. "Right. What do you want?"

Draco glared at her. "You know what I want."

A grin tugged at the corner of Ginny's lips, but she fought it back valiantly and spread her hands in an innocent demeanor. "I didn't know that you were a pervert."

"That's _not what I meant and you know it," hissed Draco. He took a menacing step toward her. Ginny's back was practically against the hard wall, and the Slytherin boy was no more than a foot away from her. "Don't play innocent. I want my sushi."_

Ginny desperately tried to bite back the grin, but it wasn't enough. Well, now it was impossible to act innocent anyways. She let the grin come, and Draco was visibly surprised at how readily she gave herself away. He narrowed his pale, icy eyes suspiciously.

"Why should I give you more?" Ginny asked, smiling widely. "I'm not afraid of you." As proof of this, she didn't even bother going for her wand. She had a feeling that it wouldn't come to that.

Draco actually stopped to consider her question. "I don't know," he admitted. Ginny knitted her brows. That had been unprecedented, and very interesting, Draco being at a loss for words. He saw her expression and asked, "How did you know that I would like the sushi?"

Ginny fingered her wand. "I didn't."

Draco's face darkened. "You charmed them."

Ginny shrugged. "I thought it was funny. But that doesn't matter that they were charmed, now, does it?" she said easily, not really needing an answer. "Had you known that the sushi was charmed, you might have been able to resist it." (Are any of you considering the absurdity of this conversation?)

Draco bit his lip. As much as he hated to, he was forced to agree with her. The knowledge that the sushi had been charmed didn't matter at this point: he just wanted more. The craving, the hunger, the _yearning for it was still there, tearing at him. He was beginning to see little sushi pieces dancing about his head. Draco felt that he might go mad if he didn't get more THAT INSTANT._

Ginny had read his face, and when he looked at her, she quipped in a singsong voice, "What would you do for more?"

That infernal question again. Draco cringed. He eyed the redhead warily and asked, "What do you want me to do?"

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. Secretly, she was enjoying the new control she had, dismissing the fact that she was _still backed up against the wall and Draco hadn't budged. "It's just a curiosity question. I wanted to know." She looked totally calm._

Draco was beginning to feel slightly—or not so slightly—crazed. His mind kept screaming at him: "Sushi! NOW!"

Ginny saw this, and a crafty look kindled in her eyes. She leaned forward until the two were so close that their noses were nearly brushing against each other. She smiled wickedly, and whispered in a conspiratorial voice:

                _"What would you do for a sushi?"_

In the space of one second, millions of thoughts jammed into his brain all at once, shouldering and jostling each other to get realized, but only one pushed through the mass, and he instantly reacted to it.

Without even thinking, he leaned in, closing what was left of the disturbingly short gap between them, and kissed her. Hard.

As soon as his lips had met her own, Ginny's eyes widened to the size of a house-elf's. She really, really hadn't expected him to react like this.

What_ had she expected?_

After a very long moment, Draco pulled away. Ginny saw that he looked as shocked as she felt at what he'd done. His pale face was flushed crimson—perhaps with embarrassment?—and Ginny felt her own cheeks heat up until she was sure that they were as red as her hair.

There was an incredibly awkward minute between them. The stuffy air of the closet now felt ten times as stifling, but she didn't notice. Neither one of the two were angry, or even repulsed. Just…very, very surprised. Ginny could plainly see that Draco hadn't planned on doing that. The sushi was forgotten.

That had been the first shocking thing. Now Ginny did Shocking Thing Number Two: she leaned back in and returned the kiss.

Shocking Thing Number Three: Draco didn't pull away.

Shocking Thing Number Four: he kissed back. 

After another very long moment, they simultaneously pulled apart from the mutual embrace and stared at each other. Ginny was the first to break the silence. Her voice was barely an audible whisper. "Is that what you would do for sushi?"

Draco blinked. "Is that what you would want me to want to do for sushi?" His raw fish fetish was gone now. It no longer ate at him. "I don't care about sushi. I hate sushi now."

Ginny looked at him with even wider eyes. After a moment, she nodded, and said hoarsely, "Me too."

They looked at each other for another millisecond, and together closed the gap once more. Nothing else needed to be said.

It looked as though Draco had found a new addiction.

Um, on a scale of one to ten on the OOC meter, I'd only give that about a 2. Maybe a 2 ½. I don't know about you, but I can actually see Draco having a little (albeit tolerant) prank competition with Fred and George. And we all know/hope that Ginny has her wild side. You don't become a pussy living with six brothers.

Oh, and yes, if you know of any good D/G fics out there, please tell me in your review. I've already read ones from Archer, Breea, MochaButterfly, wmlaw, and Davesmom, my favorite Harry Potter authors, but if you know any that aren't written by any of those people, let me know! Thanks. 


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